


Flip Flops

by econator



Series: Adventures of Rowmi [1]
Category: Formula E RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Ass fetish, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Back fetish, Boys Kissing, Fear of Rejection, Foot Fetish, Foot Massage, Frottage, Getting to Know Each Other, HSV type 2, Kissing, M/M, Metafiction, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Nerves, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overcoming Awkwardness, Pining, Sexual Fantasy, Tenderness, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-06-03 21:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19472968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/econator/pseuds/econator
Summary: Seb did a double-take when the translator said, 'kiss the feet,' was the name of their next dance move. Not that he wasn't absolutely down for kissing Oli's feet, but, you know, not in public, and certainly not in China where he could get arrested or fuck knows what for getting hard over it. And he should really have a proper conversation with Oli before kissing his feet.Sebastien has a giant, awkward crush on his teammate after accidentally stumbling across Jeandre fanfic while trying to look like he wasn't old and out-of-touch with the slang. Now he has to deal with Oli being way too friendly.





	1. Dance Class

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a discussion on the Fansplaining podcast about how great would it be to have self-aware meta fics that were about fanfic in a way that was social commentary about the state of the world/entertainment industry. Elizabeth and Flourish aren't really into sports RPF, but it did make a great prompt. It allowed me to explore what it would mean if people's kinks didn't match, but gave each other room to get their needs met in other ways.

Seb did a double-take when the translator said, 'kiss the feet,' was the name of their next dance move. Not that he wasn't absolutely down for kissing Oli's feet, but, you know, not in public, and certainly not in China where he could get arrested or fuck knows what for getting hard over it. And he should really have a proper conversation with Oli before kissing his feet.

'Sorry?' Seb said reflexively.

The translator explained the dance move, aided by the two professional dragon dancers, both of whom would always be better than Seb, no matter how many times they faked a dance evolution for a promo piece. Seb felt a mixture of relief and frustration that his interpretation of foot kissing was different to what was expected of him. He rued telling the team that he wanted to cultivate a more flamboyant public image. 'A bit more French. More flamboyant and artistic. Like Jev,' he had said, hoping the gay undertones missed them. At least with this dancing promo, he didn't need to fake being great with women. He got through the rest of the filming without looking too much of a numpty. Thankfully, the hotel's concierge was a fan, and had hooked him up with the VPN that worked for Netflix, allowing him to relax away from the team after the day was done. He didn't dare watch anything romantic. No. Not here, not now, not when his traffic was so stringently monitored. But the government didn't have a monopoly on his headspace, and Seb let himself indulge in private thoughts of Oli's feet after he turned the lights out.


	2. Track Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In the engineers' briefing the next day, Seb stole a glance across the plastic table dominating the room at the man who was dominating his thoughts. His guts twisted when he saw in the little crinkle next to Oli’s eyes as he smiled at the engineer's dad joke. The crinkle that had melted Seb, distracted him, played on his mind from the moment he first saw it. Seb twiddled the now redundant wedding ring on his finger, trying to refocus on what the data engineer was saying._
> 
> Epic chapter is about 5k of Rowmi being awkward with each other. Seb's POV, with lots of up-in-his-head self-criticism

In the engineers' briefing the next day, Seb stole a glance across the plastic table dominating the room at the man who was dominating his thoughts. His guts twisted when he saw in the little crinkle next to Oli’s eyes as he smiled at the engineer's dad joke. The crinkle that had melted Seb, distracted him, played on his mind from the moment he first saw it. Seb twiddled the now redundant wedding ring on his finger, trying to refocus on what the data engineer was saying. Oli sighed and slouched down in his seat, tapping his pen on his notebook. His foot bumped against Seb’s as he stretched his legs under the table, making him jump higher than was probably appropriate. Oli glanced over at him, grinned, and refocussed on the meeting, seemingly oblivious to the effect he had on him simply by brushing his bare foot against Seb's. The one thing Seb both loved and loathed about beach races was that everyone wore flipflops, displaying their feet like wanton whores, making him need a notebook and clipboard at all times. Seb crossed his legs to cover his awkward erection. He stared at the engineer presenting, regretting searching “jeandre,” so he didn’t look like the old, out of touch guy, instead of just asking Jev why the fans had made Techeetah a teammate nickname.

Ten months. Ten months he'd had these thoughts. He had clicked through from Twitter to some weird place called Tumblr that he had later explored for how fucking gay-and-proud it was, all the way to a site that had a waiting list to join. And join he did, because only good things have waiting lists. He had thought. Six races into the season, across the garage from a teammate he whose driving he respected, who had beautiful, bony, sinewy, hairy feet, and Seb hadn’t been able to stop the loop of fantasies playing like movie trailers in his head.

Initiating a nap with Oli between the lockers in the driver room, having good chats, creating a familiar rhythm of affection and trust. Teasing him about his awful French. Finding some reason to have Oli over to his house between races, and crowding his broad, muscular body against the kitchen island. Staring into those blue eyes as the corners crinkled in response to a joke Seb had made, kissing his adorable mouth. Massaging Oli's feet after a day at the beach or shopping together, walking hand in hand. Kissing Oli's feet, smelling his sexy driver room musk up close where Seb could safely submit to the cognitive overwhelm of his own arousal.

If he was honest with himself, Seb was fantasising about having his first relationship since his divorce came through. A real relationship. A playful one, with just the right amount of battling for dominance with someone who was his equal in every way. Someone who regularly gave Seb a look that melted his insides. He let the potential scenarios unspool in his head, relishing the warmth of Oli's foot against his own under the table. The thought of kissing Oli’s sexy toes had hijacked Seb’s entire consciousness, not helped by the deeply erotic fantasy he'd used to entertain himself in the shower that morning. Maybe Oli would like to go for a run on the beach later? They could call it “fitness training,” and shower at the beach showers. He figured that, if all he could have was running behind Oli this season, he’d try to engineer it as much as possible.

‘Seb?’ Oli said, nudging his forearm across the table.

Seb jumped, coming back to the crowded, temporary meeting room. He realised that everyone was collecting their papers to leave while he had no memory of the briefing, and he desperately hoped he hadn’t missed anything important. He took a moment to chastise himself for letting his guard drop so low. He looked up at Oli, his eyebrows raised, hoping for some kind of explanation. Help. Anything.

‘Track walk, mate?’

‘For sure. Yeah.’

Sebastien stood up, clutching his empty notebook to his lower abdomen for privacy while he tried to pretend he had been following what the engineers had said. He was going to have to drop the façade at some point and ask someone for help. Not today, though. Before the race, but not today. He tucked his chair under the table, and followed Oli out the room, hanging back just far enough to watch the sinews in his ankles move under his skin. Thankfully, the rookie walked quickly down the pitlane, so Seb didn’t feel obliged to catch up and make conversation. Fuck, what would he say? He couldn’t admit the truth. What would happen? Like, ‘Hey, man, I found some fanfic of the current champion and his Petrol Daddy. Some of it’s kinky as fuck in a way that makes me want to do disgusting, despicable things to you. And some of it’s beautifully fluffy in a way that makes me want to spoon you and stroke your hair. Want to try it out, since we’re teammates and sharing a driver room?’ He could never say that. What would Oli think of him for reading fucking fanfiction, and the properly filthy stuff at that? All the ravishment fantasies, golden showers, things Seb could never admit to liking. Not without Oli humiliating him or taking advantage of the knowledge. No.

Oli stopped and turned to look at Seb. ‘Right, now that we’ve left the fat arses behind, what were you thinking about in the briefing?’

From the expression on Oli’s face, Seb figured his pretense of concentrating in the meeting was useless. ‘Oh, you know, I was visualising the track. Best lines from the sim. Things like that.’

Oli bumped the back of Seb’s hand with his. ‘C’mon, nobody looks that happy while visualising the track. You were lit up like a Christmas tree. It’s a girl, isn’t it? Like, not your wife.’

‘No,’ Seb said a little too forcefully. He self-flagellated over his uneven vocal tone.

‘So that’s a yes, then, yeah?’

Sebastien wondered if he should just level with Oli, tell him the truth, start the real, honest relationship that he wanted. ‘I was thinking about a love interest, yes.’ It was a cop out and his guts twisted at the thought of what would happen if Oli figured it out.

‘I knew it. I knew you looked too happy to be thinking about work.’

‘Hmm,’ Seb said, hoping Oli would leave it alone now he had his answer.

They walked in silence for a few moments. Seb hoped it was companionable silence, but with his mental commentary team chatting in overdrive about Oli’s proximity, he couldn’t be sure how the other man interpreted it. He crouched down to get a better view of the camber into the first corner.

‘Hey, I just realised that was a very vague term you used for your new girlfriend,’ Oli said, crouching next to him. ‘Want to talk about it?’ There was something in Oli’s voice that Seb couldn’t quite place. He hoped it wasn’t annoyance. Or, perhaps worse, Oli playing the long game in setting him up for a humiliating prank.

‘This corner has a very flat camber. We’ll need to brake hard into this one to get around it in one piece. If the other guys have realised the same thing.’

‘Thanks for the tip, man,’ Jev said, ambling past with his sunglasses and stylish shorts. He took a sip of something yellow from his team-branded drink bottle as he crouched down at Seb’s other side.

Seb fought the mental image of Andre pissing in Jev's mouth that the waitlisted website had gifted him. It was probably just orange electrolyte mix in the bottle. Thankfully, Oli stood, and walked around the corner, actually examining the kerb like a beautiful dork and allowing Seb the cognitive function of distance. ‘Tell to your boyfriend my little tip. I don’t want him in my ass in the first corner, ruining my race.’

Jev’s eyebrows creased above his Elton John sunglasses. ‘He hasn’t done that in some time. The one you need to speak to is the Brazilian who thinks he owns the track.’ Seb felt relieved that Jev had dropped into their shared mothertongue, adding another layer of privacy between them and Oli.

‘Aha! You didn’t say Andre isn’t your boyfriend.’ Seb couldn’t help himself but be petty to deflect the focus away from his awkward, overwhelming feelings for Oli, whose sexy toes were all splayed out in his flipflops as he crouched, the light catching the little tufts of soft hair at the base of each one. Hair that Seb wanted to tenderly nuzzle with his nose.

‘You can think what you like. I’m grateful to have a teammate I trust and respect, and get along with away from the track. It’s rare in this sport.’ Jev looked up at Oli and back down at the corner again. ‘You can have that too, if you want,’ he said softly.

‘What did you say?’

‘I’ve seen how you look at each other.’

‘I respect him as a driver.’

‘You’re missing my point.’

‘Which is?’

‘He looks at you too, when you’re not paying attention. He stares at your ass and your back when you walk in front of him.’

Seb wasn't sure how he felt about that knowledge. Maybe it was nice attention, not head games? He fidgeted with the edge of the temporary kerb while he thought.

‘Oi. You two.’ Oli cut in in English, sounding impatient. 'Who’s regarding who?'

‘He was saying look how the curbs are extra bumpy,’ Seb said in English, not looking up.

Jev stood. ‘I was saying that I saw you looking at him.’

‘Fuck off, Jev,’ Seb said, standing because he felt odd staring at their knees.

‘I do speak a bit of French, you know. Enough to know you’re being a dick cheese when you “teach me French.”’ Oli gestured the quotes with his fingers. ‘I know you’re teaching me the wrong things to humiliate me and try catch me out.’

‘I think my work here is done. _Salut mecs_ ,’ Jev straightened and sauntered off.

‘See you later, bitch!’ Seb called after him in French, hoping it sounded threatening.

Jev raised a finger over his shoulder as he walked down the track. A loose-hipped gait. Wasn’t that what that girl on the internet had written? Seb stood as he tried to remember which half of Jeandre that comment had been directed at, since it was applicable to both. Oli touched Seb’s elbow with his fingertips.

‘Shall we keep walking? Stay a bit ahead of the crew?’

‘Yeah.’ Seb fell into step beside him. ‘I wonder if we’ll get rain on Saturday?’

‘Wow. You were properly zoned out in the engineers’ briefing thinking about this new “love interest” of yours. I hope he’s worth me kicking your arse in the race.’

‘Okay, yes I admit I was not paying the most attention possible. So are we having rain?’ Seb said, trying to keep the conversation on safe ground.

Oli glanced at Seb out of the corner of his eye. ‘I looked at your browser history while you were napping on the plane.’

Sebastien’s heart pounded so hard he was honestly worried for his sternum. He stared at the bitumen surface ahead of him, trying to remember whether he’d visited anything incriminating in the Dubai transit lounge. The jet lag and dehydration brain he’d felt at the time rendered that memory unavailable. ‘That’s personal,’ he bit out.

‘Sorry. I wanted to know why you were being so weird and awkward around me. At first I thought it was just because I was new. I figured you took a while to warm up to new people, so I gave you space to like me. But I’m not new anymore, and you still wouldn’t look me in the eye, so I went digging.' Oli sighed. 'I'm sorry, that was a shitty apology. That’s not a “sorry but;” that’s an explanation of why I thought it was okay to snoop. And I'm sorry I invaded your privacy while you were napping.’

Seb still felt unreasonably defensive, given how awkwardly Oli explained himself. And Seb knew that he was passed out with his shoes on in the airport, making the scope for possible repercussions unsettlingly broad. ‘What did you find?’

‘So you like reading about Jeandre golden showering, huh?’

‘It’s entertaining to read while jetlagged. It’s mindless. Hot.’ He bit his lip too late to exclude the spontaneous compliment that betrayed his feelings about it all. It hit Seb like a freight train that he’d last read that fic weeks before. Fuck. When had he last deleted his history? Being single for so long had clearly comfort zoned him a bit too much on the browser history front. ‘You dug quite far through my history.’

Oli looked at Seb out the corner of his eye, his cheeks slightly flushed. When he looked that cute, Seb could ignore that, if his marriage was any testament, dating suspicious snooping types was a bad idea.

‘Part two of my confession.’ Oli crossed his arm over his belly. ‘I checked your phone on the way to Santiago.’

‘That was a month ago.’ Sebastien pushed Oli away from him, his mental commentary team pointing out insistently that he was definitely being punked and the whole paddock would laugh at him. ‘All this time and you said nothing, you prick.’

‘I didn’t know how to bring it up without seeming like a dork. Or an asshole.’

‘For one month, you’ve known and now you tell me two days before a race? What are you planning to do to me, huh? Make your own team order?’

‘Jesus, fuck, no. Nothing like that. I just kinda wanted the whole trusting companionable teammate thing that people have been writing about Jeandre since before they spoke about it themselves.’

Seb kicked the nearest kerb, trying to make it look like he was safety testing it by kicking it a few more times. ‘You read that far back on the Archive in one month?’

‘No. I read that as it was being posted, because I was trying to visualise getting back into Formula E. Best single-seater series in racing. Best development ground for drivers. Friendliest paddock. FE’s a different game now than it was when I subbed in for Heidfeld that weekend in season two, and I wanted in. I needed inspiration for the feels I wanted to aim for, things fanfic deals with and the news doesn't. Having an account is part of how I knew what to look at on your phone. My account is also why I spent so much time visualising having a fun and friendly teammate relationship.’

Knowing that Oli was enough of a pervert to have found and plumbed the depths of the Archive on his own made Seb feel significantly less weird about him having pried into his browser history. ‘Oh, I see.’

‘Am I forgiven for snooping? Not that you have to forgive me, if you don't want to. I just laid a lot on the line with that badly executed apology, and now I feel like you're hanging me out to dry.’

‘Yes.’ Seb looked sideways at him, feeling a bubble of impulsiveness bubble up, he assumed from the proximity of the beach. ‘If you want to talk about that stuff, I’m open to it.’

Oli grinned sideways at him. ‘I’ll definitely take you up on that. If I could get Netflix to work, I'd suggest you tell me about it over room service after work.’ Oli wrapped his arm around Seb’s shoulders. ‘So, who’s your crush? He’s in the paddock isn’t he? Is it Jev? Because, I gotta tell you, man, those fans who write about them are dead on with how into each other Jeandre are, and I think they're missing a trick by excluding Carl from all the party scenes. My point is I don’t think you have a chance with Jev. His dance card seems pretty full already.’

'I have Netflix here.' Seb shrugged Oli’s arm off instead of giving in to the urge to pull him closer and bury his face in his neck. ‘And it’s not Jev.’

‘C’mon, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. I mean, I totally didn’t read you as gay, even with the dancing promo you did in Santiago. I don't think anyone else has noticed. I thought maybe things had gone cold with your wife because of the kids or something, and that’s why you’d basically stopped posting about her on social media. I didn’t realise it was because you were into guys.’ They walked around the corner before Oli spoke again, this time quieter, gentler. ‘Did you leave her for your mystery fella?’

‘No. She found a photo from a guy on my phone when she had the super-smelling of the pregnancy. So I think maybe you were right that we broke up because of the kids.' He crouched to eye out the line through a corner. Oli didn't say anything, just squatted next to him. 'For fuck’s sakes, she smelled my hookup’s aftershave on my shirt, even after it had been through the hotel laundry. Two times, I had it washed! It was terrible aftershave, and strong. But that’s not normal, being able to smell the aftershave of sexual competitors after two washes. Then she was suspicious and looked at my phone while I was sleeping, and saw some dick pics from him. And then I was glad for the prenup my manager insisted we sign.’

‘Shit. Sorry. Did I bring up wife baggage when I told you I’d snooped?’

‘No.' Seb sighed. 'Yeah. Apparently my type is suspicious snoopers.’

‘What do you mean? Does your mystery man also do that?’

Seb looked at Oli, confused. Had he not caught the hint? Jen had always just understood his hints before he fucked it up by really liking men, and, no offense, discovering that loving women wasn't his style. Jesus, this whole seduction thing was hard without an F1 drive as a power advantage to sweep potential partners off their feet with the admittedly fake promise of a glamourous life. He exhaled loudly as he stood, steeling himself for a second strike.

‘It’s millennials, I think. Apparently we’d all rather snoop on each other’s phones than pose an awkward question. You and my ex, snooping my phone. Me searching fucking #jeandre on Twitter instead of just talking to Jev. I think we all have a problem.’

‘Touché.’ Oli walked to the other side of the track and examined a small bump, while Seb wondered if Oli realised that he really didn’t need to punk him by teaching him incorrect French when he used bits of the language wrong all the time anyway. Oli returned to Seb’s line. ‘You can trust me, you know. I won’t tell anyone. Or laugh.’

The vulnerability in Oli's voice broke Seb. ‘ _Putain_. It’s you. It’s you that I have a crush on. You, arriving in the garage with that body and feet and eyes and smile, doing things to my heart like saying “touch” in the wrong places like you did a second ago, being all English and friendly like...the dog like André has with the square head and the happy tail is called what in English?’

‘A Labrador retriever.’ Oli stared into the middle distance. ‘So, just so I have this straight, the pranks and shit was because you liked me, not because you were hazing me?’

‘Jesus, no. I didn’t want you to feel bad. I just didn’t want to tell you my feelings and make you uncomfortable in the driver room and the shower.’

‘Shit. I misread that. Good to know you have feelings for me, though.’ Oli grinned at Seb before he crouched to look at a change in the track surface texture. ‘This bit looks a lot less grippy than that bit.’

‘So extra careful through these corners. It’s a pity. They’d be good corners for overtaking, if they weren’t very slippy.’

‘Yeah.’ Oli straightened, and they carried on their walk. ‘Have you thought about what it might feature if people wrote stories about us? I mean, if they were to write about us like they write about Jeandre, what would you like in the stories?’

Of course he’d thought about it. But he didn’t want to scare Oli off with the depths of his depravity, even though he seemed strong enough to handle most storylines. ‘I’ve thought about it. What do you think of the stories? Do you want anything that Jev’s fans think he wants?’

‘I’d quite like the tender stuff. I mean, we can talk about the filthy smut later, when we’re on your Netflix account, not our track walk. But I leaped at the chance to race here again, since “friendliest paddock in racing” seems to mean more cuddles than I had that weekend with Bruno the rampant homophobe. At least, FE seems that way from the outside, recently, you know?’

‘Why were you on the Archive, when Autosport exists for racing gossip? Was it just for visualising the feelings, or was it...’ Seb lost the courage to ask Oli if it was hot for him to read about men getting it on with each other, rather than just cuddling.

‘I was curious when Jev started using their teammate hashtag last spring. I was watching FE accounts, and it became a proper thing with them. Went looking. Figured a site with a waiting list would have the juiciest dirt.’

‘Heh. Me too.’

Oli chuckled. ‘Great minds think alike.’ He stared at the upcoming corner. ‘Have you dated since your divorce?’

‘Do anonymous hookups count?’

‘No. Look, I’m not exactly the world’s biggest romantic or anything, but can I propose a different strategy for how we run this team partnership than playing pranks and publicly humiliating each other and doing shit to mess with each other's heads?’ Oli sounded nervous.

‘What’s your plan?’

‘We watch a movie together tonight. Just us. Like a date. A proper, romantic one. No crazy-making headgames, trying to teach me wrong words for things, messing with me to take the piss. Just food, a cuddle in the movie, and talking, and maybe a kiss at the end if the date goes well.’

It all sounded so simple and reasonable. Too simple and reasonable. ‘You’re being serious? You’re not setting me up for revenge after I messed with you?’

‘Yeah, no.' Oli paused. 'I’m serious about asking you out, and I’m not setting you up for public humiliation. I like you, and I really do just want a fun, respectful racing partnership, like the Techeetah and Audi guys have.’

‘Then why only maybe a kiss? I’m pretty sure both those team partnerships started fucking each other right after testing.’

‘You said you got divorced over a hookup. I just wanted it out there that I’d like a proper date with you. A date with no interruptions, and no sex pressure until we find our groove with our clothes on. I don’t want to fall into something that’s nothing more than you repeating the same mistakes over and over.’

‘Now I’m the one who’s misread the situation. That actually sounds really good.’

Oli bumped the back of Seb’s hand with his own, smiling at him shyly. ‘Look at us awkward dorks, misreading each other.’

Seb fought the urge to reach out and touch him in relief. ‘Would you misread it if I offered to give you a foot massage in the movie?’

Oli grinned at him. ‘Only if you want me to misread it.’

‘Wait, what do you mean? You would like that, or you would be upset if I didn’t want you to like that?’ The negatives got confused in Seb’s head, and he wondered if Oli caught his meaning.

‘Sorry, I was trying to be funny and missed. I mean if you want to give me a foot massage on our date, if you'd enjoy it, that I’d be open to that.’

Seb smiled. ‘Cool. I hope you won’t misread it when I kiss you tonight.’

Oli playfully shoved Seb’s shoulder. ‘You mean when I kiss you.’

Seb gently shoved him back. ‘I will give you my best kiss.’

‘Oh wow, that explains why you didn’t see it,’ Seb’s engineer said behind them, sounding out of breath in addition to his social awkwardness. ‘Uh, guys, sorry to interrupt your DMC, but you just walked over the biggest bump in the track and didn’t even notice.' He gave Seb A Look. 'Apparently because you’re copying the Techeetah boys’ dating strategy now.’

Seb turned back and looked at the road surface, wincing at the knowledge that his engineer had caught them planning a date. ‘I see it now.’

‘We’re a bit concerned. We think it’s going to lift the cars off the road surface for a few metres.’

Seb looked at Oli, glad to see his own excitement reflected back. ‘We have a jump on the track this weekend.’

Oli grinned at him. ‘I’ve been training for this moment since Mario Kart.’

‘What I meant was that it’ll punish the suspension. We could see a high failure rate on Saturday.’

‘Oh, even better,’ Oli said. ‘A thinner pack means easier points.’

‘You don’t think maybe your car could break instead of someone else’s?’

Seb gripped his engineer’s shoulder. ‘We trust you to set the cars up to survive a full day with the jump in the track.’

He looked Seb in the eyes. His mouth was the flat line he kept for moments when he knew he’d been bested. He shrugged. ‘Good for the show, I guess.’

‘I’ll ask Jev or one of the photo account drivers to find a good angle for the TV crew.’ It would definitely be Jev, Seb decided, since he was the one who saw Oli’s feelings and brought it up, and now Seb needed his advice ahead of the big date tonight. At the very least, that extra motherfucker with a fashion sponsor owed him some wardrobe help.


	3. Concierge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Seb walked up to the concierge's desk when he got back to the hotel, relieved that the woman who'd been so helpful with the Netflix-friendly VPN was on shift. They exchanged smiles their faces could barely contain._
> 
> Seb goes in search of massage oil for their date.

Seb walked up to the concierge's desk when he got back to the hotel, relieved that the woman who'd been so helpful with the Netflix-friendly VPN was on shift. They exchanged smiles their faces could barely contain.

'You enjoyed the Netflix last night?' she said.

'Yes, very much, thank you.' Seb looked at the patterned carpet. 'Do you know where I can get some nice massage oil?'

A look of confusion settled on her face as she processed his accent. She brightened. 'You want the book of girls for massage? You want to choose?'

Seb did a double-take as he realised how she'd interpreted his question. 'Certainly no.' He shook his head vehemently to emphasise that he didn't want the menu to order a massage girl. 'Thank you. No. No, thank you. Oil for massage.' He gestured a little bottle, and then massaging, feeling proud that he'd made up a cover story in advance. 'My trainer does my massages.' He hesitated a bit on the lie, and mentally deducted marks for poor delivery.

'Your trainer, or your teammate?' She smiled.

Seb felt like hiding behind her desk, and then crawling out, hoping she wouldn't notice and would suddenly develop short-term amnesia. 'Yes. No.' His reply didn't make sense, but he didn't know how to answer her without looking suspicious.

She gave him a little smile. 'He is handsome. Your teammate. You think yes?'

'Yes,' Seb admitted, feeling sheepish.

'I think it's beautiful.' She pulled a file of cellophane sleeves out of the drawer, opening it to a tab hand labelled in the alphabet so alien to Seb's brain, and laying it on the table in front of him. Each of the little boxes on the page had a pictorial breadown of the scent bouquet. She pointed to a row of little icons on the options. 'These are organic. This sign means condom safe. These are the smells. You choose on the couch, then order, and then I put the bill on your room number.' She gestured a nearby sofa.

'Thanks.' Seb carried her hand-made product catalogue to the sofa she'd indicated near her desk, feeling like he'd been entrusted with her book of spells. As he flipped through the file from cover to cover, noticing the recognisable feature pictograms she'd put on each item, he admired how much effort and creativity she'd put into developing and curating her sourcing network for foreign guests. He eventually settled on two pairs of cashmere and bamboo yoga pants with matching shirts, just because the fabric sounded super soft, and some massage oil scented with oranges and vanilla and a kind of tree he didn't recognise. He genuinely hoped the tree wasn't a cinnamon icon. It really wouldn't help him be well-behaved if Oli's feet smelled like a patisserie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapters from Oli's POV. Definitely will include smut. And angst.


	4. Nervous Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of their date, from Oli's POV.
> 
> _1780 words. Chapter title from the legendary book of the same name by Tsitsi Dangarembga_

Oli grinned at Seb as he walked into his room. When his eye caught the candles and massage lotion on the armoire, his gut twisted. He felt painfully aware that his heart had written a cheque his body couldn't cash. Or, more correctly, shouldn't cash, not if he wanted to be a responsible and respectful partner to Seb. Seb, who was dressed like Jev had chosen his date outfit, all soft and stylish. Oli wondered if he'd got more advice from Jev than just his fashion choices, since that meddling French fucker seemed so keen on playing matchmaker with them.

'You're planning quite the romantic foot massage,' he said, pointing at the candles as he abandoned his flipflops at the door, his tone sounding awkward, even to himself.

'I ordered the massage lotion from the concierge. I think the candles were a gift from the store. I don't think we understood each other that well.'

Oli felt relieved. 'Did she offer to send a girl up with the oil, and you settled for the candles?' As the words came out, he realised how racist he sounded, and how flat his attempt at a joke would fall. Oli wondered how he should dig himself out, if he even could without making it all so much worse. Fuck, he was bad at this whole dating thing. He perched on the edge of the sofa closest the door, ready to run if Seb wanted him to.

'She offered me the book of "girls for massage" when I asked for massage oil.' Seb sat on the sofa's other side, the rooms too small for multiple chairs. 'I told her I needed the oil for my trainer.'

'Great cover story.'

'She didn't buy it. Called you handsome. Said she thought it was beautiful that we were having a dinner date together.'

Oli looked at Seb, trying to figure out if he was bluffing. 'Handsome, huh? Well, there are some fics in Chinese on the Archive. Do you think she's...?'

'Planning our first fic together? Yeah, probably. Maybe writing it as we speak.' Seb smiled at Oli in that sweet, shy way of his. That little secret smile he made when he was thinking things he didn't want anyone else to know about. 'If you see a Chinese fic with yoga pants in the tags, you'll know.'

Oli's stomach clenched in anxiety, and he resisted the urge to scratch his nipples until they were raw. He was probably going to have to end this date sooner than he'd hoped, if Seb's apparently elaborate expectations of their date were any indicator of how keen he was. Or that Jev had overstepped in his meddling. 'Yoga pants?'

'I found some cashmere-bamboo yoga pants in her product catalogue when I was in the reception looking for massage oil. The pants rated five out of five soft, fluffy clouds. I wanted the softness. I was shopping for the oil anyway, and thought why not.'

Oli grinned at him, crossing his arms for something to do with his hands that wasn't fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. 'Sounds reasonable. How many pairs did you buy?'

'Only two, but with matching shirts.' That shy smile again. The little twitch of his mouth that made Oli want to cup his face and kiss him until he was breathless. Seb would be Oli's undoing, if he let this get away from him.

'Big enough to fit me if I wanted to borrow one?'

'Yeah.'

He grinned. 'We're totally messing with your concierge fan's head, just so you know.'

'You want to wear them to breakfast tomorrow, if she's on shift, and make her think we slept over?'

Oli grinned. 'Yeah.'

'I like that idea.' Seb slapped his forehead. 'I haven't offered you a drink. You want a glass of wine? A beer?'

'Uh, beer please.' Something to hold that didn't completely tank his judgment after two portions.

Seb walked over to the fridge next to the armoire. 'I had thought of room service, because of the Netflix. Shall we make an order now to save time?'

'Uh, yeah, thanks. Whatever you feel like eating.'

Oli stood up and walked over to the window at the front of the room, staring out at the waves. They steadied him in the room that felt like a hyperbaric chamber with the pressure of everything unspoken between them. He slid the door open and leaned against the balcony rail as he enjoyed the salty tang on the sea breeze. Behind him, he heard Seb call the front desk, ordering them a spread of finger food. His implied expectation of a sensuous date concerned Oli, whose stress outbreak had escalated into giant, painful pustules on the flight to China. Showing off a weeping cock on the first date was one thing; a weeping herpes outbreak was quite another. But he'd asked for a fully clothed date, and they were aiming for a respectful partnership. Surely his boundary was safe? Seb handed Oli a beer and leaned against the railing, facing him.

'How are you feeling about the race?'

Oli exhaled loudly as he clinked his bottle against Seb's, wrenching his thoughts back from the unhappy place. 'Cheers. Good health. I'm excited to have a jump in the track.'

'Thanks. _Sant_ _é_.' Seb giggled to himself. 'Me too. I love that this series feels more like Mario Kart every season.'

Oli sipped his beer, gathering his courage to stroke a knuckle against Seb's finger. 'I love that it feels gayer with every passing season. The rest of racing is really starting to feel like it's run on Victorian values in comparison.'

Seb stared at Oli's bare feet for a moment before interlacing their fingers and looking into his face. 'I like that about the series too.'

They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. Seb looked like he was about to lean in for a kiss, but he swigged from his bottle instead.

'If you could have the concierge write anything about us, what would happen?' Oli said, trying to prompt Seb to acknowledge his painfully obvious foot thing and relieve a bit of the pressure between them.

Seb blushed, and stared at the floor. Or, more probably, Oli's feet. He ran his pinkie toe along the outside of Seb's foot, eliciting a quiet sigh, almost a whimper. Oli savoured the satisfaction of his suspicions being proven right. Seb dropped Oli's hand, turned, and walked over to the small seating area. He curled up in his original seat on the sofa, pulling his knees up to his chest. Oli followed and sat down. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees to keep from jiggling his foot. He took a swig of beer with his eyes still fixed on the horizon.

'Would it help to talk about it if you knew my big, scary secret?' If he wanted to cut the tension a bit, it seemed he'd need to do it himself.

Seb looked up at him with a heartbreakingly hopeful look on his face. 'Yes please.'

Oli steeled himself for the impending rejection. 'The reason I can't have sex tonight isn't because I'm a prude about first dates. I have genital herpes, and I'm having an outbreak from the stress of all the long haul flights I've done recently and forgetting to buy more suppressants last time I was home.'

Seb took a mouthful of beer, the cogs visibly turning in his mind. 'Herpes is spread by touching skin or come?'

Okay, medical questions were safe. 'Skin. Touching the outbreaks.'

'But your dick is not a Basilisk? I can still look at it, no?'

Oli grinned at the reference. 'Yeah, you can still look at it. I'll protect you from seeing the ugly stuff.'

'And kissing? It's in your mouth too, or just your dick?'

Oli waved his hand. 'Nah. Type one herpes virus prefers mouths; type two prefers living in the nerves around people's junk and nipples. And elbow and knee creases, and palms, but no blisters there.'

'Nerves?' Oli could almost hear the cogs turning in Seb's mind. 'Does it stop you feeling anything?'

That was a new one. Maybe Oli'd made a decent life choice, suggesting this date. For once in his life. 'No. It doesn't stop me from feeling.' Although there were days the itching made him wish it did.

'Thank you for telling me your secret.' Seb stared silently at the table. 'It won't kill you? The herpes, I mean. It won't kill you like AIDS can?'

There it was. He was scared of catching something that would kill him and leave his kids fatherless. 'No, it's just bloody itchy and painful when I'm stressed.'

'And there's nothing but those pills to help your pain? I don't like to think of you hurting.'

Oli's insides felt all gooey at Seb's concern for his comfort. 'Some natural remedies for the symptoms, options for clothing that doesn't scratch and make the itching worse, but no, just pills to manage the virus.'

'I'm sorry.' Seb sipped his beer. 'I mean about having no real options for the infection. The soft shirt and pants will be good for you? For the itching?'

'Yeah.' Oli felt uncomfortable that his voice betrayed his feelings over Seb's concern. He cleared his throat. 'I should've asked for herpes vaccine when I was having my shots as a nipper.' He bumped Seb's hand with his own. 'Are you going to tell me your big, scary secret? Now that you know mine and all.' Even though he'd pretty much figured it out for himself, he wanted verbal confirmation, for Seb's sake and the sake of their teammateship more than his own satisfaction.

'I want to.' Seb washed his words down with beer, giving Oli the cutest coy glance he'd ever seen as he drank.

Oli sat back in the tiny sofa, spreading his arms out along the back. He gently touched Seb's shoulder. 'Oh yeah?'

Seb took a deep breath and held it. He launched himself out of his seat at the sound of a knock on the door, as though powered by sheer nervous energy. 'Dinner's here.'

'Yes, it is.' And not a moment too soon, since Seb clearly needed some blood sugar to soak up the adrenaline coursing around his slim frame. Oli watched his back as he walked to the door, openly admiring his sinewy form and basically non-existent ass. The tiny ass that Oli wanted to nuzzle in and unleash a total eclipse of a rimjob on, when they got to that stage. He schooled his face into something more appropriate and friendly when the waiter wheeled his trolley far enough into the room to see it, managing a full smile as the man explained each dish.


	5. Touched Like A Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oli finally gets Seb to talk about what he likes. He hopes the date ends happily for both of them.
> 
> 1777 words of build-up and smut. Chapter title from the Madonna song.

'This is a weird show, but I like it,' Seb said around the last dim sum as the credits rolled on an episode of "The Casketeers."

'I know it's about funeral homes and that's kinda weird, but it's sweet and funny, right?' Oli had suggested it because it wasn't romantic enough to be suspicious if anyone was watching their Netflix choices. And because it was an oddly addictive blend of character comedy and cultural documentary that he couldn't help but share with everyone he co-watched Netflix with.

'Yeah.' Seb pointed at the screen as the countdown started for the next episode. 'Another episode?'

Oli leaned forward and hit the cancel button. 'Since we're both done eating, I'd prefer to shut down our devices, pull out the batteries for security against digital snooping, and talk while you give me the foot massage you promised me, if you're okay with that? Since we both want a trusting, respectful teammateship and all. I think talking might be a good foundation for that.'

'Yes.' Seb gave him that adorable little smile after his instant, seemingly reflexive reply. 'Teammateship. I like that word.'

Oli pulled his phone out his pocket and ejected the battery as Seb did the same for his laptop and phone. He sat back on the tiny sofa, feeling like suggesting this date may have been a decent life choice after all. Seb glanced at him out the corner of his eye.

'Shall we...' He jerked his head in the direction of the bed. 'If soft clothes are good for you to be comfortable with your skin condition. This sofa is very small, maybe too small for a good massage.'

'Great idea.' Oli stood up. He picked up his half-drunk beer, intentionally standing too close to Seb, who seemed flustered by his proximity.

Seb grabbed the cosy pants out of his wardrobe, throwing the pile of cellophane-wrapped clothes onto the bed. He pulled his shirt off before turning to Oli. 'If this is a date and not just a teammate thing, should we take turns in the bathroom?'

Oli couldn't resist openly admiring Seb's lithe form for a brief moment before he shrugged. 'We've seen each other almost naked in the driver room. Your room's bathroom is probably as small as mine is. I dunno, I think we're both bigger than your average Chinese person.'

'True, true.' Seb paused. 'If you're comfortable with that.'

Oli pulled his shirt over his head and dropped his jeans, watching Seb's reaction to his body. It felt oddly erotic, dressing in front of each other with intent, even though they'd done the exact same thing in the paddock several times a weekend since the start of the season. He pulled the yoga pants on.

'The concierge was right. This fibre blend's really soft,' he said, fingering the fabric around the waistband. 'Think I'll have to get me some of my own to take home.'

Seb shrugged his shirt on, eyes firmly fixed on Oli's torso. 'Yes. Very soft.'

Oli tugged his shirt over his head, climbed onto the bed, and sat with his back against the bank of throw pillows, legs outstretched towards Seb. 'Is this where you want me?'

'Yes.' Seb's openly admiring gaze focussed on his feet.

Oli wriggled his toes. 'I got a pummice from the pharmacy on the way home. Made my feet all smooth for you in the bath before I came over. Is that what you like when you're massaging?' The obvious bulge in his pants gave Oli his answer before Seb replied.

'I like that you thought of that.' Seb lit the candles, turned the overhead light off, and settled crossed-legged on the end of the bed with the bottle of massage oil next to him on top of the duvet. He reached out and caressed the arch of Oli's foot.

Oli scrunched his foot, hating himself a little for the reflexive reaction. 'Sorry, I'm a bit ticklish.'

Seb looked worried as he glanced at Oli's face. 'The massage won't be good for you?'

'I consented to it in advance. Just stick with firmer touches and we'll be fine.'

'Okay.' Seb bum-shuffled closer, and carefully placed one of Oli's feet in his lap. He spread oil over his hands, warming it before he smoothed it over Oli's skin. The delicious, tropical scent filled the room. Vanilla, oranges, and something woody as a base note. Maybe cedar? Oli moaned appreciatively as Seb kneaded his heel. Seb's eyes flicked up to his face. 'You like this?'

'Yes. Keep going.' Oli closed his eyes, resting his head on the cushions as Seb's thumbs moved in rhythmic circles from his heel to the base of his toes. His gentle, methodical attention allowed Oli to relax and breathe in a way that he hadn't in months. Maybe this time he'd let the right one in. Seb worked his way up to Oli's ankle before switching to the other side. 'You're really good at this.' He opened his eyes, looking up at him.

'Eyes closed,' Seb said, but not before his eyes connected with Oli's. He looked like he could barely contain his arousal.

Oli smiled. This was absolutely having the desired effect on him. 'Sorry, I wanted to stretch my leg out. I'm just gonna...' He ran his foot up Seb's thigh and along the crease at his hip. 'Oops. Sorry,' he said as he ran the ball of his foot over his erection, prompting a quiet moan before resting it against his body.

'You're doing this on purpose. This thing with touching your feet against me.' Seb sounded like he was trying hard to be annoyed and outraged, but too aroused to pick a real fight.

'Only because I was testing a theory.'

Seb's hands faltered momentarily. 'And your theory is?'

'You've got a thing for feet. My feet. They turn you on, right?'

'And what?'

'And it turns me on how much it turns you on.' Oli let his legs fall open, pulling the soft knit fabric taut over his groin to make his point to Seb.

Seb's hands stilled. 'You said yes to the massage earlier, knowing my dirty secret?'

Oli slid a toe under Seb's shirt, gently caressing his waist. 'Yes.'

'And still you told me those things about yourself to make me feel comfortable about being a disgusting pervert?'

'We're all disgusting perverts in our own way, man. It's feet, not like kids or dead people.'

'True.' Seb lapsed into silence for a moment. 'Since you told me your secret, I'll tell you more of mine.' Seb's hands started moving again, gentler this time. 'At the end of this, maybe after our kiss, if you want to make me have an orgasm very quickly, do that again with your foot on my cock.'

'Mmm. Thanks for the tip. Would you like it if I stroked your feet while we kiss?'

Seb whimpered quietly. 'That will also make me have an orgasm very quickly.' He slowly worked his fingers up over Oli's ankles, loosening the fascia. Oli let his mind wander through the possible combinations of body positions that would allow for both a good kiss and a solid orgasm for both of them, deciding on what he wanted as Seb held Oli's foot in his lap, stroking his thumb over the top.

'Can I open my eyes yet?' Oli said, sensing Seb's awkwardness at how to progress from here.

'Yes.'

Oli relished the flush in Seb's cheeks as he looked up at his face. 'To be honest, all the excuses to make you jump and whine in the meeting earlier have me pretty riled up already.' Oli moved his leg so both of his feet were inside Seb's shirt, gently stroking his sides with his toes. Seb bit his lip, breathing heavily. 'If you're in my lap, kissing me and grinding against me as you come, I'm probably going to come just from how hot you are for all this gentle touching.'

Seb ran his fingertips down Oli's calves. He lifted each foot to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss in each arch before he laid them on the duvet cover, and climbed up the bed to straddle Oli's lap. Oli slid his hands up Seb's back and kissed him sweet and slow, drawing out the climax of a month of playing with him. He relished the feeling of Seb's chest moving against his hands with each deep inhale, their cocks rubbing together as his teammate frotted against him. Seb pressed their foreheads together when their lips parted.

'That was a good first kiss,' Seb whispered.

'I'd say we're pretty good at this respectful, trusting teammateship thing,' Oli whispered back, moving his hands down to cup Seb's beautiful, skinny arse.

Seb pressed his lips against Oli's as he move his hands from his ass to his feet. 'Enough playing. I want to come for you.'

'Mmm,' he moaned. Oli found Seb's desperate arousal intoxicating, and gave up caring who overheard. 'Use your hips to tell me how fast and what's good.'

'Okay.'

Seb held Oli's face and kissed him hungrily as he ground against him. Oli stroked his fingertips along the soles of Seb's feet to the rhythm he set for a few moments, enjoying his quiet whimpers. He swiped his thumbs along the underside of his toes, pressing down on the sensitive skin to see what reaction it elicited. Seb clutched Oli's body against his own, and came whispering French swear words in Oli's hair. As soon as Seb's orgasm had crested, Oli gripped his arse and thrust up into him, allowing himself to tumble over the edge into sensory overload at the startled, overstimulated whine that escaped Seb in response. He thought he heard himself say Seb's name before the other man cupped his face and kissed the unabashed sounds of his pleasure out his mouth. They slowly sagged back into the pile of throw pillows, ending the sensuous kiss as Oli sank into the afterglow. Oli ran his hands up and down Seb's back, its arch as he rested on Oli's chest accentuating the leanness of his frame.

'That was amazing for me,' Oli said in Seb's ear. 'Thank you.'

Seb chuckled. 'I just had the best sex of my life, and I still have all my clothes on, like a virgin.' He propped himself up on his elbows and looked intently into Oli's face. 'This is the first time I've done it like this. I like this kind of teammateship. I can do more of this, if you want.'

Oli caressed his shoulders through the soft t-shirt. 'Me too, Seb. Me too.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb enjoys waking up in Oli's arms. He wonders what he can do for Oli to say thanks for indulging him the night before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated this. Enjoy ~1k of fluffy, awkward-ish foreplay while I finish off the smut.

Seb rested in Oli's arms as the sky grew pale over the ocean. He stroked his fingertips through the soft ginger hair, gently stroking his arm as he grounded himself in the feeling of warmth and safety. He was still overcome with incredulity that his wildest, dirtiest fantasies had come true the night before, and he hadn't been ruined by it. Or binned it along the way by being defensively grouchy, which had to be some kind of record. If anything, the morning wood pressed between his arse cheeks from Oli's body being so tightly curled against his gave him hope for more. Oli grunted, nuzzling in the back of Seb's neck.

''S ticklish,' he mumbled. 'The arm stroking.'

Seb cupped his hand over Oli's arm. 'Sorry.'

Oli pressed a kiss against his shoulder. 'No problem.' He squeezed Seb before rolling onto his back and stretching. He made the most adorable noise as he reached the apex of the stretch, his arm muscles taut against Seb's neck. Seb wasn't sure which was more attractive – the muscular arms or the sleepy squeak. Whichever it was, his morning glory appreciated it. He rolled over to admire Oli looking morning messy, his hair all messy and his skin paler than usual. 'Good morning, Handsome,' he said.

Oli stroked his cheek. 'Morning yourself, Champ.'

He guided Seb's head to rest on his shoulder as he wrapped the other arm around his waist, stroking his back. Seb closed his eyes. He let Oli's scent fill his consciousness in the brief, stolen moment of the dawn. It occurred to him that Oli had spent a lot of time touching his back. It had been consistent the whole season, even before their date. And Jev said he spent time staring at it when he walked behind Seb.

'It's backs for you, isn't it? The thing you like to look at and touch. No?'

Oli's hand stilled. 'Put it this way, if you take off your shirt and let me massage your back like you did to my feet last night, all slow and sensuous, touching you all over, we'll definitely have time for another kiss before breakfast.'

'By "kiss," you mean...'

Oli chuckled, his hand sliding down to gently cup Seb's arse. 'Yeah, that's what I meant.'

Seb kissed Oli's neck as he leaned his body closer, pressing his erection against his hip. 'I told the concierge that I was having a back massage last night. It would be suspicious if my back didn't smell of the oil.' And he wanted to see Oli's face turn as red as it had last night. He wanted to see that beautiful mouth kiss-bruised, milky white skin flushed and covered in a sheen of sweat, eyes glazed over with post-orgasmic chill. He wanted more of Oli saying his name, making shamelessly primal noises as he climaxed, coming in his pants because he was so turned on by Seb he couldn't stop himself.

'I'll wash most of it off you in the shower, if you want. I mean, because we can't both go to breakfast stinking of massage oil and sex. That would be suspicious to more than just our resident fanfic writer.'

Seb sat up and pulled his shirt over his head. He looked back at Oli over his shoulder. 'Make your magic on me.'

Oli sat up and kissed his spine, running his hand down to the small of his back. 'Can I massage your arse as well? Towards the end, when I've got you face down.'

The viscerally hot memory of Oli's strong, masculine hands gripping his arse cheeks as he came shivered through Seb's body. 'Is it my back or my arse that you really like?'

'Both.' Oli slid his fingertips inside the waistband of Seb's yoga pants and stroked the top of his arse, sending shivers through him. 'You're a delight to walk behind.' He pressed a line of gentle kisses up Seb's shoulder. 'To share a driver room with.'

Seb reached back and tangled his fingers in Oli's hair. 'So are you.'

'Oh yeah?' He buried his face in the crook of Seb's neck. 'What is it that works for you?'

'The way the bones and muscles look under your skin as you walk, the little fluffs of hair on your toes and the top of your feet.'

'And in the driver room?' he said, stroking little circles on the small of Seb's back.

'It's more disgusting.'

'Have I run away yet?'

'No.'

'By my count, you now know two of my dirty secrets, and I only know one of yours.'

'Okay.' Seb grinned to himself. 'You smell very good when you've been sweating in the car.'

Oli nibbled Seb's earlobe.

'Is that why you always turn away when I walk in after a session?'

'Yes.'

'Showing me that beautiful back of yours.' Oli squeezed Seb's waist and kissed the back of his neck. 'Lie down. I want to have this conversation straddling your thighs, stroking your skin with slick, sweet oil.'

'When you say it like that, I understand how you knew my thing was feet without me telling you direct.' Seb intertwined their fingers, moving their hands to rest on his hard cock.

'Mmm.' Oli grazed his teeth over Seb's shoulder as he squeezed it. 'All for me.' He cradled Seb against his chest, kissing his neck as he stroked their fingers together over the shaft. Seb flexed into the contact. Oli ran his thumb over the head, sending tingles through Seb's relaxed body, before he gently squeezed the shaft with his fingers. 'Right. On the bed with you.' Oli whispered, nibbling his earlobe.

'What does that mean?' Seb said, his mind struggling to keep up with Oli's slang.

'Lie down. I'm going to have my filthy way with you now.'

**Author's Note:**

> Seb’s wife doesn’t really feature on his socials (wedding ring, yes, prominently; kids, occasionally; wife on birthday and holidays), leaving me a loophole to explore Jack’s headcanon about the Nissan guys. He’s mentioned several times that they’re “fantastic teammates,” and “work well together,” and Seb is treating Oli way better this year than he did last year, as well as how he treated his previous teammates. 
> 
> The team queer coded Seb (or maybe Seb queer coded himself to save time voting for himself on Fanboost) with a dancing promo in Santiago, and a team dancing feature in Sanya. I’ve made up that Buemi and his wife split sometime around Baby Number 2 because of the “irreconcilable differences,” this fic explores, and have kept up the pretense out of Seb's straight-presenting contractual obligations. So we’re going with the usual rule of fanfic: none of this is real.


End file.
